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“So,” I venture, “you have a pretty good grasp on the technical aspects of the company…”
“And you’re wondering how the landlord understands it so well,” he finishes.
“I wasn’t going to put it like that, but yeah, you seem to like to work with your hands more than with technology.”
“I like both.” He smiles thoughtfully.
“I like both, too, but I’m not sure I could walk someone through the technical components as well as you just walked me through them. You took a really complex concept and made it so the average person could grasp it. That’s more than just liking something. You’ve got some experience with stuff like this. That’s why Charlie had you work on this.”
He seems to take his time before answering. “My best friend from high school, Erik, is really good with technology.”
“The Erik whose wife keeps trying to set you up?”
He chuckles. “The same. Anyhow, growing up, he was really good with computers, and when we weren’t running around outside, we would hang out at his house and he would show me the latest program he was working on. It sounded like a foreign language in the beginning, and I couldn’t understand how he could get so excited about a bunch of numbers on a screen. Then he showed me what those numbers did, and suddenly computers got really interesting. I didn’t have the patience to do the actual coding like he did, but I did like seeing what he created, and after years of watching him do it, I picked up on some of the process for creating code. I still can’t sit at a desk and build the stuff, but I can follow how it works and what the applications are.”
“That must come in handy when your brother works in EdTech?”
“It doesn’t hurt.” He smiles. “But there are other people better suited to his needs than I am. I just lend a hand when he’s in a bind. Can you print me a copy?” He nods toward the laptop where the application is still visible on the screen.
“I can email you one.”
“I prefer paper,” he says, and I swear my heart gives a little flutter.
“Sure.” I try to hide my smile as I pick up the laptop and click around the page. “It will print to the office.”
He follows me down the hall to the guest bedroom turned office, a tiny space with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves bursting at the seams.
“I knew you had to have more books than the ones in the front room.” He grins.
“Those are the ones I save for company. These are all the rest.”
“You have books for your company to read?”
“Not to read,” I laugh, “to see.”
“I’m not following.” He frowns, walking around the room to check out the titles.
“The books in the front room are the ones that make me look smart and well read.”
His head whips in my direction. “Why would anyone think you aren’t smart and well read?”
“If they see those books, they wouldn’t think that,” I tease. “Don’t you have books for company?”
“No. Not much of a reader, remember?”
“What do people look at in your house to learn about you?”
“I don’t know. No one’s ever been there.” He pulls a book from the shelf, a mystery, and studies the jacket.
“No one has been to your house?” I ask in disbelief. I’m not a social butterfly, but I can’t imagine never having anyone inside my home. It’s not much, but I’m proud of it.
“No one besides family. They already know all there is to know about me.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“What about pictures?”
“I have some artwork.”
“Not art, pictures. Ones of you or family and friends?”
